Cataracts

This is really my first attempt at writing since my cataract surgery on the 18th of this month - a week ago tomorrow.  My vision is still difficult, not because of the lens but because of the disparity between the vision in both eyes, although the new lens, cornea, and pressure in my left eye are still healing and not as clear as it will become over the next few weeks.  However, I have a sense that the further I go in time from this event the harder it will be to recall the particulars, or at the very least, the less miraculous it will become, and I don't want that to happen.  So it is my endeavor at this moment to detail these events here.

I was first diagnosed with cataracts back in 2000.  In 2001, on our way to Kentucky, an optomotrist that I saw in Denver noted that they were pretty significant then but they weren't "ripe" yet.  The years passed and every eye exam noted that they were still present.  LOL 

In November 2010 I was playing for the choir in our ward and was noticing that I was having great difficulty in seeing the music.  At first I thought it was just lighting problems at the piano but even at home I was having difficulty.  These problems were acuity related and had come rather suddenly.  I wondered if it was just "hormonal" changes and adopted a wait and see attitude.  By April I knew I could no longer put it off and made an appointment with an optomotrist at the Eye Care Center here in Oak Ridge.  Upon examination he was astounded that my prescription had changed so dramatically - for the better!  He was at a loss to explain the sudden shift but urged me to see my primary care physician because the most likely reason was blood sugar disturbances.  I saw Dr. May and she ran the requisite tests and determined that my blood sugar was just fine.  I reported back to Dr. Kunemen and he monitored my vision over the next few months but things had seemed to stabilize and I was once again "seeing" with new glasses.

In November 2011 we gathered in Wisconsin for a family reunion at the Dells and spent Thanksgiving together as a family.  It was a wonderful time that I will always cherish.  As that week came to an end I drove Rich to the airport in Milwaukee so that he could fly home to Tennessee and I made preparations to travel to Utah so that I could spend Christmas with my Dad and Felicia.  Rich would join me later in the month.  Desi and Mike left a couple of days earlier than I did...in hind sight I probably should have followed them.  When I got into Omaha it was dusk and suddenly the glare of the lights and the darkness of the night left me unable to see signs, distances, and the road.  I called Rich in a panic as physically I had been prepared to drive for several more hours but my vision left me terrified - I couldn't see where I was going!  He, of course, counseled me to find a hotel and continue on in the daylight and that is what I did.

In December he flew in to Salt Lake and I went to pick him up.  It was nearly midnight when his flight arrived.  When he got into the car and I pulled away from the curb and moved into the traffic he became agitated because I was going slowly.  I hadn't realized that was the case...but I was compensating for my lack of vision.  He commanded me to stop and he took over the driving!  LOL

Over the course of 2011 I continued to notice a decline in my vision.  What had once been only a problem in darkness was fast becoming a problem in daylight.  In November (I'm beginning to see a pattern with the Novembers! LOL) I was playing for Sacrament Meeting and, not having a knowledge of what the hymns were beforehand, I looked up at the Hymn Board and turned to the opening hymn and started playing the introduction.  I had barely finished it when the chorister, Mara Petersen, walked over to me and told me that wasn't the correct hymn and gave me the right one.  All through that hymn I realized that I was in trouble...I was having difficulty with seeing the music and I had definitely not seen the correct numbers on the board!  During Sunday School that very day I tracked down Brother Tommy Dahl, an opthamologist in our ward, and asked him questions about cataract surgery and if he was seeing new patients.  He assured me that he would be able to see me and that I would be able to exercise the day after the surgery, except for water aerobics and weight training...that would be a week to 10 days out.  Sister Loosli, in our ward, works at the Eye Center, told me that she would look on Brother Dahl's schedule and see if she could get me in as soon as possible.  A week later I had my first appointment. 

At the appointment my eyes were dilated and history was taken.  As the exam continued Tommy told us that he had suspected that I would have some problems but he was surprised at how bad things really were.  The cataracts were very dense, especially in my left eye.  Compounding the cataracts were the degrees to which my vision was impaired by both far and near-sightedness.  Rich joked that he would just get me a white cane and a tin cup, to which I responded that my vision wasn't that bad and that plenty of other people had worse, to which Tommy responded, "Not in this country!"  Lol  He told me that I was "Big Letter E" blind and not legal to drive.  I was amazed...even astounded.  I had known I was having difficulty but I wasn't prepared to hear that news.  It explained a whole lot about what I was experiencing.  We left his office knowing that finding a surgical date with the holidays fast approaching would be difficult.  I was also reluctant to have it during the holidays because Cherstin and Dan and Joey and Carlie were going to be joining us. 

As it turned out the pre-op exam was scheduled for the 14th of January with surgery to be done on the 18th.  It seemed like a long time away but very close at the same time.  As I prepared for the holidays I found myself more and more frustrated at little things.  Shopping was difficult...lights, the "fog" or "haze" of the cataracts, and general lack of acuity were tiring and I found that I had a feeling of being somewhat disconnected.  More and more I felt unsafe and uncertain about driving, cooking, sewing, reading, or even participating in the games and puzzles that the kids were playing.  I really think I was beginning to understand how Grandma Bainbridge felt, in small measure, as the disconnectedness was disconcerting to say the least.  It is hard to enjoy the moment when you cannot see the moment well.

As the holidays ended and the pre-op exam approached I found myself wondering what I was going to discover once the surgery was done.  Was I going to find that I was even more morbidly obese than I thought?  Would I discover that the makeup that I had been applying all these years was garish and clown-like?  Was my house clean?  Would I discover that the quilts that I had loved making were ugly and my kids wondering what I had been thinking?  What had I been missing and who had I not been seeing?  What if the mistakes I made at the piano keyboard were not vision related but because I just couldn't play well?  What if the problems I was having weren't the cataracts afterall?

At my pre-op appointment measurements were taken of my eye to determine which type of lens might be most advantageous.  I learned that even though I have an astigmatism it isn't very bad...negligible really...and if they were to put in the toric lens that corrects for it, the astigmatism would actually be much worse.  That was pretty good news.  The difficulty that I have with both near and far-sightedness left me with two options - the basic lens that my insurance would pay for but would only correct for near-sightedness - I would need to have glasses for reading and close work.  Or, a lens that was $2200 that would correct for both near and far-sightedness - and I would need TWO of those lenses!  As I weighed those options, Dr. Dahl shared the fact that people who are basically farsighted adjust pretty well to the basic lens because they are used to having to use reading glasses.  That made perfect sense to me.  However, I have worn glasses or contact lenses for 50 years and it has only been the last 10 years that I have needed to have correction for the farsightedness.  In 50 years I have never misplaced my glasses, never lost them...in fact...they are the last thing I take off and the first thing I put on each day...and if truth be told...much of the time it is Rich that takes them off or I find that I have been sleeping with them on.  And, as the problems have advanced I have gotten in the habit of putting them on my head when I have needed to read or do handwork.  Suddenly I realized that I would probably be looking for glasses a lot...how many pairs would it take to equal $2200...$4400?  Over the rest of my life?  I decided to go with the more expensive lens.  I hope that was a good choice!  LOL

My initial exam had shown that I had an increase in interocular pressure, especially in my left eye.  Dr. Dahl had run a scan to determine what it was doing, if anything, to the macula.  It was causing some degree of "flattening" and left untreated would become a problem.  However, he believed that the pressure might be a result of the density of the cataract and that once it was removed, over time, the pressure would return to normal.  He reiterated that in the pre-op appointment and told me that they would be monitoring it over a period of time.  And, the upper respiratory and sinus infection that I had been dealing with since the first of December would not necessarily delay surgery unless I developed a temperature or my mucus changed to green or other colors that indicated infection.  I was elated with that news!  Everything was a go!

The day of surgery Rich gave me a blessing.  I was truly comforted by it.  Even though I really believed that everything would be okay there is such comfort in having those feelings confirmed by the power of the Holy Ghost.  I prayed for Brother Dahl...I knew from our conversations that he would feel some degree of pressure because of our association.  I didn't want him to feel uncertain, worried, anxious, or hesitant in any way.  I knew there were risks that everything might not go as foreseen but those were my risks to take...not his.

I had been expecting that my surgery would go like my Mom's had gone.  By the post-op the next day she was seeing 20/20.  Dr. Dahl had warned me that probably wouldn't be the case for me, that it would take longer as Mom had just been far-sighted.  Even though he had warned me I still thought otherwise!  LOL  He had also told me that I would probably not find my glasses any help in my post operative state, even with the left lens removed.  He was pretty certain that the visual distortion would be severe enough that I would find it preferable to go without glasses. 

As they wheeled me into surgery I was feeling pretty calm.  I certainly felt like I was in good hands.  I didn't anticipate any real difficulty.  Dr. Dahl had warned me that even though they had taken measurements, the fact was that once they got into the eye the cataract could be much deeper, bigger, and denser than the measurements had shown, and that meant that they would have to "dig" a little deeper to get it out.  And that was indeed what happened.  Even though my eye was open the entire time - I so wish I could have seen it - I didn't.  My right eye was draped so that eye couldn't help and all my left eye registered was a very bright light and and very pink center in that light...I would assume that was blood but I don't really know and didn't think to ask.  The surgery is relatively quick - just a 15+ minute procedure really - from start to finish.  At the end of it I realized I could see little holes in the ceiling tiles...I hadn't noticed them before.

Within a half hour or so I was ready to come home.  Rich was there with me to get the post-op instructions and we left.  It felt good to be home...comforting.  I settled onto the couch with my eye shield and drops that had to be put in every two hours and promptly went to sleep.  I dozed off and on all day and slept well that night.  I think I had been more anxious than I wanted to admit because the sleep that night was really restful - unlike the night before.  LOL

The next day we went back for the post-op exam.  Everything looked good as far as placement of the lens, etc.  However, my visual acuity was not good...it wasn't what I had been expecting.  The interocular pressure had risen 10 points and Dr. Dahl prescribed another drop to be added to the regimen to deal with that.  The cornea was cloudy and swelling was leaving me unable to see well.  That has gradually improved as the days have gone on.  I have a follow-up appointment this coming Friday, the 27th and I hope to be able to resume all normal activity and have a date for the other eye.  Until the other eye is done though I will probably continue to experience a degree of nausea now and then and the frequent feeling that I am walking on shifting sand - both are a result of the visual disparity between my two eyes.

After we left the Eye Center we drove to Wal Mart for Rich to get something.  I would have stayed in the car but I had been wanting to go to a paint store ever since I had the surgery the day before.  Mom had been amazed at how vibrant the colors were after her surgery.  However, what I noticed was how white everything was.  The white was so white that it seemed to glow.  I felt like I could understand Joseph Smith's description of his experience with Moroni - "he had on a loose robe of most exquisite whiteness.  It was whiteness beyond anything earthly...exceedingly white and brilliant."  I wanted to find paint chips that would demonstrate what I was experiencing.  The only problem was that when I got into the paint section I soon learned that it wasn't the "white" that I was experiencing - it was the "light".  Everything in my right eye is darker...yellower...browner...darker.  The whites are not white - they are more beige - and the other colors are deeper - less light.  I cannot find words to describe the light that my left eye sees...it just is...and it is wonderful!  And more importantly I cannot help but recognize the importance of light...something that I thought I understood but didn't.  I thought I had been walking in light...but I wasn't.  Suddenly I want to understand the eye, how it works, the structures, the lenses, the brain...I would love to just call Brother Dahl and have him give me a crash course in opthamology.  LOL  And, just as suddenly I want to understand light, its' properties, refraction, color, wave, how it works.  And, since I have been unable to read, I have been left to ponder for the last week about the significance of what has happened and liken it to the scriptures and to myself.  Suddenly I want to read all the scriptures and study the words of the prophets to learn about the eye and light...and especially about the Light of the World.  Suddenly I "see" and understand more about the significance of "eyes that see" and the "flood of light" that changed the world.  I "see" so many applications on both a macro and micro level that I am afraid that I might miss something.  And, I worry that the further I get from this experience I will take for granted this very special and miraculous gift and my "eyes" will become darkened again with spiritual cataracts.  And I really worry that we, in America, have become "blinded" by our own sophistry and hedonism.  I suspect that as I search and ponder more this will be a subject of great "insight" to me...at least I hope so.

Happy Birthday! and Technology

The years just seem to keep rolling by - and I guess that's a pretty good thing considering the alternative!  LOL  January is always a time of New Beginnings and this January is no exception...except...that I closed 2011 and opened 2012 as sick as I have been in a very long time.  I am beginning to feel better but that is after weeks of not, two courses of antibiotics, and coughing up my lungs every few minutes!  I told Rich, "Could you imagine what I would look like if I didn't know how to 'sniff' or 'blow'?"  I have been nothing short of a fountain of green, brown, yellow, and bloody gunk!  Ugh!!!  I seriously worried that my cataract surgery would be delayed if I couldn't get over this but my appointment last week dispelled that worry and surgery is a go for Wednesday!  Hallelujah!!!!

Back in December I received the following post on FaceBook from my cousin, Gayle May Roskelley Brown.
     "Funny thing happened yesterday!  I was looking for photos that were posted already on the Internet; of my ancestors.  I tried to find one of grandma; but an interesting blog came up instead about somebody's grandma, so I started to read.  Then it hit me...Who is writing about MY grandma Roskelley? ha ha ha Couldn't figure out who you were until I was near the end.  Wonderful tribute.  You shared info I didn't know.  You've got to share more with me, OK? Gayle"

Then, on January 8, 2012 I received another post from Gayle:
     "Dear Karen,
     "My father NEVER talked about his growing-up days, or anything about family.  He HATED genealogy, and was ashamed of polygamy.
      "I know Grandma loved her grandmother, Julia Elnora, and once told me she had a great sense of humor.  Do you know anything about her?
      "What was Grandm's mother like? (Julia Abigail Smith)
      "What did Julia die of?
      "Were the other men she married Mormon?
      "Why didn't Julia keep and raise Grandma herself?
      "How did Grandma and Grandpa meet each other?
      "When did Granpa start drinking?  Why?
      "What was the date of their first divorce?
      "Why did it happen?
      "How did they get back together?
      "What was the date, and where did they get married the 2nd time?
      "And the date of the 2nd divorce?
      "Grandma is still sealed to him isn't she?
      "Can you tell me anything about Grandpa's other wife?
      "Did you know that somebody has sealed her to grandpa too?
      "Can you write a comprehensive history on Grandma for all of us?  :o) LOL
      "Write to me on my email. gbrown538@aol.com  Thanks"

Well - a couple of months ago I started to go through some of the things that I had collected and brought home from Mom and Dad's.  I had copied the autobiographies I found of Grandma and then texted them to family.  My hope was that someone would read them and find important information and get to know her better.  To my surprise they were well received.  I had been under the impression that everyone in the extended family had them - but it appears that is not the case.  So, I have copied them here and will refer interested parties here to get them.  I fully intend to answer all of Gayle's questions but not right now - I had cataract surgery on Wednesday and my vision is really not very good at the moment.  By next week it should be much improved and maybe I'll attempt it then.  In the meantime I hope you enjoy what I do have, Gayle.

Autobiography of Wanda Bingham Roskelley

I've got to the end of my days, till I can hardly tell who I am. I was born, Wanda Bingham, that was the name they gave me, no middle name. My Mother was the second girl, Julia Abigale Smith, of my Grandmother Julia Elnora Smith Merrill. Mother had quite a bit to contend with, with her older brother, and the two gave my Grandmother a really hard time. Mother was headstrong, I guess because she had been tormented by her brother older than she was, each one tried to get the best of the other one.

Mother started going out with Parley Pratt Bingham, Jr., and they decided they wanted to get maried. She was only 15 and I think Dad must have been 17 or something of that sort. My Mother's Mother and my Father's Father got together and talked the situation over and to see if they could disuade these two head strong kids, that they should wait a while and not get married. But to no avail. They were determined they were going to get married. So Grandfather and Grandmother finally decided that it would be best to let them get married, or they may have a situation on their hands that would be worse to deal with. They were married on 4 Jan 1899 in the Logan Temple.

They lived on the Ranch until after I was born, because I was told that my Father was working on the Ranch and my Mother took me out to see what he was doing. He wanted to have a little help from her, so she laid me down on a pile of straw and there was an old sow feeding her babies there. When they came back to get me, I was one right along with babies, as I was nursing the sow - well I don't know if it lasted very long before they found me - so I always felt that I had a little bit of pig in me.

Mother was 16 when I was born. She was too young a mother really. I don't know how long they had been married when they moved to Ogden to live. I was awfully young to remember anything about the house, but I think I do remember something. There was an outside stairway which my mother verfied before she died, when I talked to her about it, that led up to the kitchern. I can remember the door that went out there and Mother trying to keep the screen door closed so that I wouldn't go out and fall down the stairs. That was the only thing I remember about Ogden. My Mother about this time, divorced my Father and she took me back to Smithfield, Ut to her Mother.

Apparently she had communication with her eldest sister, Elnora, who lived in the Teton Basin in Idaho. Elnora had lost two babies prematurely, so she had no children of her own. She waid that she would take me and be happy to take care of me while my Mother found work. I lived with her for two and one-half years and my Aunt was the same as my Mother to me. She did for me all the things that my Mother did for me. My Mother went away from home to work and worked at various places in Idaho and Montana where she met a man seventeen years her senior.

I was visiting in Smithfield, Utah with my Grandmother and next to her house was a stone wall. The stone was put up and kind of plastered over a little bit, but the plaster wasn't very good and it didn't last and the stones were knocked out clear through, making quite a space, as big as the piano there. Grandmother's house was close to the wall, so I crawled through the hole and into the Roskelley property of Aunt Mary Jane. Behind her house and a little to the south of it was a little log cabin, the door was open. I went to sit on the step as I had been picking flowers and here was the biggest pile of asparagas. It had been cut and layed on the step and I thought, "how nice, I'll take this home to Grandma, she likes asparagas." It never ented my head that I was taking something that belonged to someone else. I thought that someone had just left it there for me. I never thought of stealing it, or anything of that sort. I took it over to Grandma and she said, "oh you shouldn't have brought that here, that belongs to somebody else, where did you get it?" I said, "that house over there, through the stone wall." "The log cabin?" she asked "Oh!' Aong about this time came Aunt Maggie and she said, "I just caught a glimpse of this little girl going through the stone wall with my asparagas." Grandma said, "Is this your? She thought somebody had just left it there, that no body wanted it so she brought it home to me." "You will have to tell her you're sorry." she told me. So I told her I was and thought that someone had left it for me or forgotten it. We never had any problem with Aunt Maggie, she was just as sweet and nice as Aunt Mary Jane was contankerous. They are all dead and gone and if she heard me say that she would say, well, so that's how you felt about me.

Mother came down to Utah to get me before the marriage and took me home with her on the train. They were married that late afternoon when she and I arrived on the train. I stood up along side of Dad Hendricks. I held his right hand and Mother was on his left. He was a cripple, as were two of his brothers. They had a disease at the time, which had kept them in bed for a long time, they called it hip disease, each one of them had trouble with their one leg which seemed to shrivle up and not grow any more. My father was the worse of the three and he wore a built up shoe. If he was standing up without his shoe his leg would be about half that of his right leg, so he had this shoe built up about that high. He was never able to participate in dances or anything of that sort, but he would take Mother and me to the dances, because she liked to dance and we would sit and watch.

There was one young fellow there, that worked for the grocery store delivering groceries. He was a tall, lanky guy and we called him "Link." I don't remember what his last name was. He would come up and ask me to dance. Here I was only about six years old and I thought I was about the biggest one on the floor. They had Supper Dances and he would come get me and would say, "Now, I'm your date for the supper. I'll take you to supper." We would go up to a restaurant and have something like oyster soup with crackers.

Over the hill from Kendle, Montana was a place they called "Slab Town." I think the poorer families lived there. Their homes were not as nice as the ones on our street, or on our side of the mountain. When he would go there and happened to see me he would say, "I'm going to deliver groceries over to Slab Town, do you want to go with me?" I'd go. There was never anything out of the way and I thought so many times, you couldn't do anything like that now. Link was a very nice young man and congenial. He thought I would like a buggy ride and so I would go with him over to Slab Town. These were some of the early rememberances of Montana.

Since Saturday was a very busy day for Dad, he worked until 11 or 12 at night shaving and giving haircuts for all these miners, Mother said if he would teach her the trade she would help him, so he taught her.

When I was up in Montana, Mother would take a notion to go on a trip somewhere and she would put me on the train. When I would get off the train in Cache Junction I would look across the valley to the Logan Temple and I could almost cry, with the feeling I had. I would think, "That is my Temple and this is my home!" I was coming back home. I learned to shift for myself from the time I was six years old. She would put me on the train in Lewistown and the train would go to Butte, where I changed trains and then I would get off the train at Cache Junction and catch another train and go over to Smithfield. She may have said something to the Conductor, but I was on my own and I got to the point where I felt I knew as much where I was going as anybody else. I was independent and didn't need their help. I guess that's where I got my independence from.

My Mother's second husband was, James Howell Hendricks, and they were divorced in 1911, because of the age difference. He was very good to me. He was better to me than my own Father. When I would go back to Smithfield, my Grandfather Bingham would come and get me and take me to see my Father, my Father never came to see me, but I was always taken to see him. My Father maybe would give me a nickle, that was the size of it. He never kissed me or anything of that nature, or showed any affection.

I still kept in contact with Dad Hendricks through letters and I continued to see him.

My Mother and I moved to Minden, Montana, about eleven miles East. Mother worked as a barber, a trade she learned from my Step-Father.

My Mother married Walter Louis Geering, in Southern Utah. They moved to California and from then on it was move from one place to another. He was from New York City, and his parents had money, but he had been a wilful boy in his younger age and I guess decided to leave home. I didn't like the fellow and I didn't like the marriage. He was a miner at the time and Mother was working as the cook at the Wild Bill. I was eleven years old and they wanted to send me away to school and I wouldn't go, so I stayed with them. My job was to make the cake and puddings occasionally. That's all I had to do and I was free to go for the day. I wandered the desert, and Mother never knew where I was. Since I have had children of my own, I can't understand it, because I could no more have let one of my younsters off in the desert where there were rattlers all around. There was no school, and no other children. She would send me back to Grandmother's every once in a while, putting me on the train in Milford, Ut. I was not close to my Mother, I was not a part of her life. I was closest to my Step-Father.

That was my Mother's last marriage, he killed himself, and she put his body on the train back to New York to his brother.

Mother was working in a hotel restaurant where she cooked. The floor had been mopped and it was still wet, she slipped and fell and cracked her hip bone and pinched a nerve and they sent her home on a stretcher. After her accident she was sent to Smithfield and Aunt Bardella took care of her. That was in October and she died in March. The Death Certificate said "Nervous Prostration," she was thirty-one years old.

I was living in Smithfield when my school teacher, Sadie McCracken, asked me to sing in the choir. I said I couldn't sing, but there were no young women I chased around with except Fontella, my Father's sister, and Margarette Roskelley, Aunt Mary Jane's oldest son's daughter. I went to choir practice and Emma Roskelley (Hansen), Aunt Maggie's daughter, played the organ. I turned the music for her. I always managed to get in on what they were doing somehow. I met Gilbert at choir practice. He could sing when he wanted to and he had a good voice. He walked me home, across the street, I was 15 or 16. We put on a show and took it all over the valley and Logan. I went out with Gilbert a few times before my Mother died. She asked me who I came home with and she turned her head and said, "Oh, my Lord, it's a Roskelley!"

Mother died in March 1815 and Dad Hendrick adopted me in August. He sent me to school. I was going back to Iowa to school, and there was a Golden Wedding Anniversary on the 19th of October, so he took me back in September. I started school in Cincinnati, Ohio and was very unhappy with it. Dad went down to the dentist office one day and his secretary said she had a friend going to school in Valparaiso, Indiana. So Dad asked her about the school and then asked me if I wanted to go there. I wanted to go so I went and packed up my clothes. I stayed a year and then came back to Smithfield and married Gilbert Roskelley.

We were married August 29, 1917. I had come home in June. He had written to me now and then when he was in the army. I wasn't particularly interested in him, but we were married in the Salt Lake Temple.

I went to Bishop Winn to get a recomment and then I had to get the Stake President to sign it, of course, so I went to Lewiston, and after I got there I found he had gone out into the field and so I walked out there and found him on his tractor in the plowed field. He signed it and I tried to get back in time to catch the inter-urban back to Smithfield. I went to church on Sunday and the Stake President came to Smithfield. Gilbert had the Bishop and Stake President sign his recommend right there in Smithfield. I could have kicked myself all over the place.

We went to Salt Lake with Mother Roskelley and to the Temple. After the wedding she went to her sister's. We went to the hotel and no sooner got there when somebody came to the door and said he had a call from the camp. Somebody had missed him and he better get back as he was AWOL.

I stayed in the hotel by myself, and Gilbert went back to Fort Douglas. Later, I went out to Fort Douglas and we had our Wedding Supper out of a mess kit, sitting on a box in front of a tent. That's the way it was all through my life!

Gilbert was transferred to San Diego and I worked for the telephone company there after he went to France. It was 1918 and everyone had the flu. Every other position at the phone company was empty, we had to work our position and half of one on each side. Everytime we went to the restroom, we had 15 minutes every two hours, and every time we left the board we had to give up our mouthpiece. When we came back we had to have our throat sprayed and we would get a new mouthpiece for our headset and go back on the board. When we went back we were trying to reach all the positions and then all of a sudden the board lit up for the armistice.

History of Wanda B. Roskelley

by Wanda Roskelley

Born January 10, 1900, Smithfield, Cache County, Utah. Father - - Parley Pratt Bingham, Jr., Mother - - Julia Abigail Smith. Lived on a farm at Trenton, Utah my first year and then my parents moved to Ogden, Utah. Father and Mother divorced when I was two and on half years old. Went to live with my Mother's oldest sister, Elnora Jane Richardson at Driggs, Idaho. Lived with her until I was 5 years old when my mother came from Montana, where she had been working, to get me. She was married again. Her second husband's name was James Howell Hendricks. He was a cripple -- one leg being much shorter than the other. It did not hinder him for making a good living for my mother and myself. He accepted me as his own and was very good to me. When I was quite young I used to say I was married to him too, as I had stood beside them when they were married.

We made our home in Kendall, Montana, a thriving mining town at the time and it was here I started my schooling at the age of five.

The children I played with were all starting school and I was feeling rather left out as I wouldn't be six until January, so my mother told me to go to school and tell the teacher I was six years old. So when asked my age by the teacher, I replied that I was five, but my mother told me to tell her I was six. The teacher let me stay and I finished the 4th grade at Kendall and moved to Maiden, Montana for one year.

Then my Mother and Step Father were divorced. There was too much difference in their ages to make a compatible marriage. My stepfather was 17 years older than my Mother and my Mother was quite a young woman, having been married when she was just sixteen years old.

She went to Milford, Utah and cooked at a mining camp that year and I was out of school. She wanted to send me to live with a family in town so I could go to school but I didn't want to leave her so she let me stay out that year. From then on until I graduated from the 8th grade at Smithfield, Utah I attended eleven different schools in five different states. Mother died in March 1915 before I graduated from the 8th grade. I had my first year of High School in Smithfield, Utah, then I went east to Cincinnati, Ohio to school, but was disappointed in the school, so my stepfather sent me to the Valparaiso University, Valparaiso, Indiana. They gave high school courses along with university couses. I thoroughly enjoyed my year there and fully intended going back for the next year, but when on vacation to Smithfield I met Gilbert Roskelley, whom I had gone with while in school in Smithfield. He was on furlough. We decided to get married - we were married in the Salt Lake Temple, August 29, 1917. He was in the Army, and stationed at Fort Douglas. When I came down to Salt Lake City from Smithfield I found he had been confined to quarters for some infraction of regulations. The morning we were married he took a company of buglers out to Mt. Olivet Cemetary and told them to practice and he slipped away to be married - I went out to Fort Douglas later that day and had my wedding dinner out of a mess kit. I returned to my hotel room alone.

There really wasn't much of a honeymoon. I returned to Smithfield at the end of the week and then got a job in the confectionary where I worked for a while - Gilbert was sent to Camp Kearney - down by San Diego and I joined him there by Thanksgiving of that year. We rented a little cottage in the rear of a home. It had three small rooms - another soldier's wife shared it with me and we paid the sum of $10.00 per month rent. Our allotment was only $30.00.

In August the next year Gilbert was sent to France with the Regiment, the 145th Field Battalion. I then went to Los Angeles and stayed with the Aunt who had me when I was 2 1/2 until 5. Whille Gilbert was gone, I worked as a Telephone Operator. I was at the switchboard when the armistice was signed. It was quite a puzzle when all the lights came on at one time, and supervisors and the managers came around and told us to not become excited or panicky and just answer what calls we could. After about two hours the chief operator came to my position and said I might take the rest of the day off. I asked why - she replied that since my husband was overseas and the armistice had been signed I might like to celebrate with the rest of the people. That was the first I knew of the cause for the lights on our boards.

I went downstairs and once on the side walk found I had no choice of direction. You could only go one way with the crowd. In January of 1918 the war being over Gilbert returned to the United States and was sent to Logan, Utah for discharge. He then came to California and obtained employment. Gilber found work with an electrical contractor and made that his work.

In the following December, my first child was born, Jack Arthur - December 15, 1919.

On October 19, 1921 my second child was born. A girl, Juanita. When she was about two years old I took her and her brother Jack to Montana to visit my stepfather. We visited there for three months and then returned to Los Angeles. We moved to Inglewood - or just out of town about one mile. There were seven Mormon families living on one acre of ground. We built a garage, 12 by 18 and stored our furniture in one end and lived in the the other end. Gilber had broken his ankle while I was in Montana and was out of work so we were forced to live on a very meager allowance. We lived there for almost a year and then rented us a house in South Gate and moved there. We were only there about eight months and I got a divorce and again went to Montana. This time to Helena. I shared a house with my stepfather's sister. I learned the marcelling business and did marcelling in my home or often went to patrons homes. Gilbert came up to Washington then over to Montana and we effected a reconcilliation. Gilbert worked for the Anaconda Copper Co. We lived there about one year and then moved to Snohomish, Washington, where Gilbert had bought ten acres of ground with a small house. My stepfather went with us and lived out there about five months. Work was scarce and we lived out so far it was impossible to get a doctor. About time my third child was due I went to Ethel, Washington to be with another Aunt of mine. My stepfather became ill and he went to a small hospital for treatment of a bowel and leg ailment.

My third child, a boy, named Melvin Gale was born at Ethel, on November 13, 1926. We returned to Snohomish, when Gale was ten days old. It rained all the way. When we reached home, about 150 miles, I was sick with an abcessed breast and the baby got pneumonia. We tried to get a Doctor and none would come out. We worked over the baby and he was improving and I got word from my stepfather's hospital, he had passed away at Vader, Washington. I left the baby sick, and I was sick and went to Vader to make... (missing page)

...to Utah to look after her. We decided we would go. We had a half-ton truck which we covered with canvas and packed with our trunks - Barbara's high chair and sleeping quilts and a grub box fixed on the back. We sold the few things we had and had about $30.00 to make the trip on. When crossing the Blue Mountains the wind blew so hard we stopped the truck and propped it up with poles to keep it from blowing over until the wind subsided.

When we reached Smithfield we found my father had gone to my mother-in-law's and had plowed up the garden spot so that we could plant a garden as soon as we got there. My father also gave me a young heiffer. My mother-in-law's land had been rented out for so long and all machinery had either been taken off or was not worth trying to fix. My husband mortgaged the land and borrowed from the Government. We built a barn and bought some cows. It seemed we just weren't meant to succeed at anything. The depression came along and times were hard. I received clothing from the county, coats were made over for my children, underclothing I made from flour sacks. I was able to can fruits and vegetables from our orchard and garden. We had plenty of potatoes and we had enough wheat in the mill for our flour and cereal. In fact the persons in charge of county extension bureau came and took pictures of our cellar. Cash was sosmething we didn't have. We didn't have funds for purchases from the store or for buying coal.

Occasionally my husband would get a days work on W.P.A. which would help pay our light bills and coal. My mother-in-law died in September after our moving to Smithfield in April, 1932. January 14, 1933 my fifth child, Vance Bingham was born. That year we had a lot of illness in the family. Vance was a tiny baby in poor condition when born as I was not well myself. My blood count had gone down to 42 and I was under the doctor's care. We were unable to find a food to agree with Vance and he contracted whooping cough from Barbara who had got it from a neighbor boy. After we had gotten over the whooping cough Gale came home with scarlet fever. Our house was quarentined all fall and winter. I had cleaned the house with lysol and fumigated and had gone to Logan to shop for a few toys for Christmas and came home. The next day, after the children had their nap, I discovered they all had measles.

In 1937 my husband left and went to California and found employment at the Associated Oil Co. as an electrician. In the summer of 1938 we moved to Martinez, California. We lived in Martinez one year then moved to Clyde, just three miles out of Concord. It was while living in Clyde that I was set apart as President of the Relief Society, 1938 thru 1942. We then moved to Concord. In December 1943 I went to work at the post office - after working at the Camp Stoneman Hospital and the storehouse at Benicia Arsenal. I then worked as the inspector in the Testing Labratory of the Associated Oil Co.

In 1941 Jack made a trip to Russia on the oil tanker, Associated. They were followed by Japanese ships - it was a dangerous voyage. He joined the Air Force upon his return and served 3 1/2 years overseas. While in England he married Hilda Gertrude Marsden. He returned to us in October 1945 and his wife came to the U. S. in May 1946.

Juanita was an ammunition inspector supervising the loading of ships with ammunition in New Orleans in 1944 and 1945. She was home for a vaction from October to December 1945 when Jack returned.

Gale had married Ruth Ellen Rhoda of Berkeley, California in May of 1944 and had just completed his officer's training in Georgia so went with us to Camp Beale to meet Jack. We had a wonderful family reunion.

Juanita and Ted renewed their courtship and were married February 2, 1946.

In 1950 I obtained a divorce from my husband and made a trip with Juanita and Vance to Provo, Utah to visit Barbara who was attending B.Y.U.

In June of 1951 Vance and I met Barbara and Joe at Provo and went to Yellowstone Park and on up into Montana where I spent my girlhood. On July 9, 1951 Barbara and Joe were married. When Joe went into the service and after finishing his special schooling and their first baby was born - Karen - they came back to California. Joe was being sent to Japan out of Camp Stoneman so Barbara and Karen came to live with me.

September 6, 1952 Gale was killed in Korea. Vance had joined the Navy in 1952 and he was appointed Honorary Escort at his brother's funeral. Gale was brought back from Korea October 29th. His funeral was held in Martinez October 31, 1952 and he was buried in the Golden Gate National Cemetary, San Bruno, California.

In the fall of 1952 I bought me a home on Bonifacio St. in Concord, four blocks from the post office where I still work.

July 2, 1954 Gilber died of a heart attack and Vance came back from Alaska where he had been stationed for 1 1/2 years for the funeral. Gilbert was buried July 5, 1954 at Golden Gate National Cemetary, San Bruno, California, almost directly opposite of Gale on the far side of the cemetary.

Vance was about due for return to the States so was assigned to Moffett Field, California. It was close enough that he spent considerable time at home which I appreciated for Barbara and Karen were gone and I was alone.

In the fall of 1954 Joe came home and he and Barbara and Karen moved back to Provo where he rentered B.Y.U. to complete his schooling.

When Vance received his separation papers in May 1956 we took a month's vacation to Mexico which we both enjoyed immensely. Vance was married 9 April 1960 to Shirley Mae Johnson in the Los Angeles Temple.

I am visiting Barbara during the Christmas holiday (1960) and having a wonderful time both at her home and the Library where I have made a few additions to my genealogy.

Gratitude - Our Bodies

Tonight I came home from the gym and wanted to collapse into bed but I decided that I would continue this - at least through November - and so I'm here!  LOL

I biked for 22 miles today, did water aerobics for 1/2 hour and also had a half hour training sessions with my trainer.  I'm reminded every day that I am growing older...whether it's the gray in my hair, the need to have things repeated so that I can hear them, my eyes that need the cataracts removed, or the weight that will not budge.  Nevertheless, I have a profound gratitude for this body that the Lord has given me.  For the most part it operates quite well.  I am getting stronger as evidenced by the increasing weight I can lift or the distance that I can ride or swim.  I am in awe of how resilient my body is - even though the average woman loses 5% of muscle mass each decade (thanks Dr. Oz), it doesn't have to remain so.  I will not be 20 again for many years but my muscles can/are gaining strength, flexibility, and mobility with exercise and good nutrition...I'm not doomed to have atrophying muscles if I choose to work at it. 

I also love that my body is washable.  I know that sounds so stupid - but I can get all sweaty, dirty, grungy even and yet a shower or bath or just washing my hands is so helpful both from an aesthetic and sanitary view.

I marvel about the all the cells, DNA, and the biological processes that are going on all the time - the fact that our hearts beat and we don't even think about it, that our livers and kidneys function without even missing a beat.  Our brains are such miracles - not even 3# - but look what they can do???  I remember my podiatrist explaining about the intricacies of the human foot - there are more bones in the foot than any other part of the body - but the cool thing is that when the foot is just hanging there it is just a mass of bones - it isn't until you actually step on it that it becomes an operational foot - because those bones are free floating they can adjust for any terrain they are called to go on - pavement, gravel, a stream bed, mud, grass - isn't that just so cool???

And perhaps the thing I love the most is the fact that my body was able to conceive and bear 6 beautiful children.  The processes that entails are so miraculous I can't even begin to describe or even understand.  And yet, feeling their little bodies inside of me, was just wonderous - I have no words to describe the joy their lives have brought to me - how grateful I am for them and their bodies.  We've been so blessed to have bodies and so often I take them for granted or get frustrated by them.  Hmmmm...I ought to reconsider those responses.

Gratitude - Technology

Today, in Sacrament Meeting, I was thinking about all the things that bless my life, wondering what I was most grateful for....  I decided that it was an impossible exercise.  Just as the gospel is one eternal round...so are the things that I am grateful for...each one blending into the realm of another and available to me because of another.  That said, I think I will take a moment each day and write about one thing, not necessarily more important than another or in any particular order, that I am grateful for.

Today I am so grateful for modern technology - phones, computers, television, radio, internet, cameras, etc.

Rebecca called me on her way home from church today to tell me that she loved and missed me.  It doesn't get any better than that!  My beautiful, wonderful, sweet granddaughter thought to call me.  It made my day!  Many years ago I watched a short movie clip about an old woman that waited for the mail each and every day for a letter from someone, anyone, she loved and who loved her.  Her children and grandchildren did love her but they were caught up in the busyness of their own lives and always meant to write the note or letter but it just didn't get done.  I related to the clip because I was a young person, then a young mom...always meaning to get that letter sent and always regretting that I hadn't gotten one off sooner.  Now...I'm the grandma but with a quick text, simple phone call, blog post, facetime, or facebook message I am able to have those precious contacts with those I love so dearly - and in real time!  I am able be know, to some extent, what is happening in their lives, what they are enduring, thinking, feeling, and working for.  And a short call to say "I love you" is just the best!  I love you too, Bekah!

The blessing of technology allows me to be involved in my kids and grandkids lives, directly and indirectly.  When one of the kids calls about this or that, I love feeling that they trust me enough to want my input and I always hope that they know that I trust them to gather all information and advice necessary on any given subject and then make the wisest choice for the situation they find themselves confronting...regardless of what I have just said!  LOL  As they discover, gather, and sort out their options I have the wonderful opportunity of being a part of the process - not to make the decision - but to know what they are feeling, experiencing, working on, or pleased with - whether worried about a sick child or worried about a rebellious youngster, whether seeking input on a sewing project (I love to have someone to bounce ideas off of too!) or a RS lesson, whether listening to a grandchild read their first scripture or just learn to talk on the phone...it doesn't matter...the opportunity to be a part of their lives is what matters.  And I am so profoundly grateful for the technology that allows me to do that.

It is the same technology that allows me to talk to my Dad and to assess his circumstances.  It is the same technology that permits me to be in a meeting with my brothers and sisters to discuss Dad and his failing health.  How cool is that???  And it is the same technology that enables us to marshall resources to help him as his circumstances dictate.  I doubt my Mom needs this technology to know these same things at this point in her life...but I wish that the technology of today would allow for my conversations with her to be less one-sided on my part! LOL

Tonight I have been doing some genealogy and just typing in a few names in a google search brought up compiled histories for ancestors that I am working on.  I have been trying, along with Joey, to get things ready to submit for the DAR and SAR and we have believed that the easiest line to follow would be through the Bingham line to Capt. David Perry.  Wow!  The resources that are available with just a few strokes of the keyboard are just astonding.  And, considering how tech challenged I am, it is absolutely amazing that I can find anything! 

Just seven years ago I was sitting in the living room of my parent's home when I received a phone call from a lady in Florida with information on the Bainbridge line that I had been searching for 20+ years.  This wonderful woman had found my query on a message board at ancestry.com from when we had lived in El Centro.  Years later she used modern technology to call every Bainbridge in the nation practically to find the person who was looking for Emmett Bainbridge because she had the information that I was looking for.  It just doesn't get much better than that!

But, as grateful as I am for these wonderful tools - I need lessons - kind of "door lessons" if you will!

We traveled to Johnson City today.  It is home to the VA Regional Medical Center that handles Rich's medical.  It is also nearly three hours from us and the second time we've been there in one week.  But, I'm not complaining as the pulmonologist there is the one that decided he would try ogygen on him and it seems to be helping.  His color is better and his breathing is less labored...all good things.  However, in the week that he has had the tanks he has gone through nearly all of them and that was to last him a month.  He called back to them on Wednesday and asked about the feasibility of a portable concentrator and explained that he is on the road a lot to various doctors, pulmonary rehab, physical therapy, and church, and that my Dad is in hospice and that when he leaves this mortal existence Rich will not be allowed to fly.  The respiratory therapist did some checking and got authorization to provide him with a unit on condition that he come back up so that they could test him on it.  Needless to say, I think he's really glad about the unit...much less cumbersome than hauling around oxygen tanks.

When we got home Rich's counselor, Julio, came by to help him take the shelves down in the garage to make room for the freezer that is to be delivered tomorrow.  There was a sale last week at Home Depot and so we decided to get one.  We've missed having one.  The last one we bought was in January of 1980 and it is still running - at Cherstin's house.  Unfortunately I doubt this one will last as long...and unfortunately it is frost free but I am grateful nonetheless.  I bought tomatoes to can last week and decided that I'll freeze them instead of can this bunch.  I love fresh tomato soup and have a great recipe for it, so with frozen tomatoes it'll be a snap to make.

I also canned the tomato jam that has been simmering for two days in the crock pot.  It is spicy but not as spicy as the last I made...thank goodness!  Rich isn't fond of it but I think it'll be great - especially with cream cheese and bagels...mmmm!  Julio liked it too and so I sent him home with a little tub of it.  Hopefully he wasn't just being polite!  LOL

Dad called me tonight.  It wasn't a very coherent conversation but at least he called and knew who he was talking to...that's a first in a couple of weeks.  He apologized for not getting up to see me but said that he had no car to come.  I told him I was in Tennessee and he responded, "you're going to Tennessee?"  For the last couple of months he has seemed to think that I have been in Utah rather than in Tennessee and has been baffled about why I haven't come to see him.  I'm wondering if some of the confusion is that I have stayed at Derk and Julia's the last two times I have been in Utah, rather than at his home.  I don't really know...trying to decode what is happening in his mind isn't very conclusive or productive, I'm afraid. 

I struggle with the rightness of my feelings right now.  I have been praying that the Lord would take him.  But then I wonder what kind of daughter am I that would want my father to die.  I can't really wrap my head around death anyway...I guess because I don't really believe in it.  I know that there is the death of the body but that is just the house where Dad's spirit resides and right now he is trapped.  Trapped in a body that is failing and that he no longer has power over.  Trapped in a body with a brain that is no longer allowing him to make consious choices or to understand and make sense of his world and what is happening to and around him.  Trapped in a body that keeps him from Mom, from his parents, from being him. 

As much as I don't want him to go - I want him to go more.  When Mom passed away, and to this day, it was like she has gone on a trip to Europe or someplace without phones.  A place that I cannot go right now but I have absolutely no doubt that she lives, that she is busy, happy, and free from the shackles and pains of her earthly body that was so wracked with pain.  How can I be sad for her?  Why would I not want that for Dad?  And why would I not want them to be together again?  Dad has been absolutely lost without her...he has put up a good front and tried valiantly to continue on...but lost nevertheless.  Mom often said that Dad saved her and she saved Dad from the insecurities, difficulties, and loneliness of their childhoods.  They were two halves that truly became whole when they found one another.

When Wanda was a baby and hit the stage where she could play peek-a-boo I was utterly mesmerized.   We played it over and over and over again, often using a sheet, blanket, or towel to hide behind.   Her squeals of delight, the joy on her face, her whole body trembling with excitement as she found me tickled me every bit as much as it did her.  Those experiences and feelings were renewed with each and every one of our children and came to be symbolic to me of my relationship with my Heavenly Father.  They have also now become symbolic of my relationship with my Mom.  I have no doubt that she can see me but I am just a babe, not completely understanding the veil that separates us but delighted each and every time I get a peek of the eternities and a hint of her beyond it.  I so wish I could talk to her...although truth be told, I do talk to her often...and I imagine what she would say...but I have no doubt at all that she is there...listening...helping...encouraging...supporting...urging me and all of her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren to continue to seek the face of God so that we can all be together forever on the other side of that veil.

One More Day

Today started off with Rich urging me to get out of bed because our training appointment was just an hour away....ahhh....sleeping in....to all those with little ones...the day will come again....Promise!  I had a good workout with Debi and then went to the theater room and biked while Rich had his appointment.  I got in nearly 12 miles on random hills - pretty good!  We sure have gotten spoiled with the theater room - filled with elliptical trainers, tread mills, bikes, recumbents, and rowing machines - I just pedaled away while watching Practical Magic - a pretty fun movie to watch with Halloween coming up.  I had to muse to myself for a minute - the movie has Sandra Bullock in it and I remember how many comments we would get about Desi looking like her...and we would get the comments about Wanda looking like Goldie Hawn...and we got comments about Cherstin looking like Reese Witherspoon...from the same family????

We came home and showered as Rich had an appointment with Dr. May.  Can I just say how much I appreciate her care and doctoring???  She is just awesome!  He had lost four pounds since last week - that was excellent.  And his breathing sounded much improved - yea steroids!  I asked her if his situation now was a new baseline or if it was reasonable to assume that he would be able to climb back to where he had been.  She said. "Reasonable - no.  Hopeful - yes."  The fact is that they don't know and it will take time to see how much he is able to regain.  She doesn't anticipate that he will be back to work anytime soon.  She acknowledged that she understood his frustration about not being able to do - but he should just do what he can and let the other stuff go - at least for now.  And, part of the level of frustration, impatience, and irritation may be attributed to the steroids - steroid rage is well documented.  The feeling that he continues to express about being in a fog mentally may have something to do with oxygen levels - but it may also have to do with blood sugars - so we'll be watching those much more closely.  She was very candid in telling us that his future health is very dependent on not taking any more hits with colds, flu, pneumonia, mrsa, and blood clots.  His lungs no longer have the elasticity they once had, there is heavy scarring, and his immune system just can't overcome all the hits.  She, depending on Dr. Dimeo's assessment in two weeks and if he continues on the path he is on today, will clear him to do some limited traveling - although he must stop every hour and walk for 5-10 minutes.  Absolutely no plane travel...kind of figured that.  He is to stay out of crowded places, no WalMart, no mall, etc.  He is to carry around hand sanitizers, use a mask if he has to be around anyone who is ill - i.e. dr.'s offices, sick family members, etc.  And, last but not least, he has to get off the river in Egypt.  All in all I do feel hopeful.  And, I am grateful to realize that there are things that we can do to limit his chances of taking another "hit" and allow his body to get stronger and get farther away from the "edge".  It is helpful to know a little bit about the kinds of things that they (the drs) are concerned about and recognize that while he may look fine...even feel pretty good on some days...his condition is more fragile than we realize and how quickly that can turn...so that we remain vigilant and cautious rather than being stupid.  That's always helpful! LOL

We came home and I went to a funeral for a friend's sister.  I hadn't met her but I wasn't really going for her - but for her sister.  It was in a Baptist Church...I can't get over how much having a fullness of the gospel really does change things.  These were lovely people, caring people...but as the Pastor spoke I just flashbacked to Grandma Bainbridge's funeral and realized that there really is comfort in having some of the answers that we do.

After I got home we went back to the gym.  I fully anticipated going swimming after riding the bike again...but only managed 20 minutes and 6 miles on the bike and then decided to head home.  I could have done more...I know it...just wanted to come home.  Home is good.

A Very Quick Weekend

The Gang's All Here!

Reah loved the animals

Joey, Carlie and the kids came to visit for the weekend and it went by way too fast for my tastes!  We really had a great time visiting with them and are so grateful that they are this close.

They got here Friday evening about 9:30 so we all put of swimming suits and headed to the gym pool for an hour of swimming.  My hopes were that the kids would have some fun and get some of their wiggles out after the long car trip.  Gideon, Glory, Levi, and Reah had a great time but Scarlett was so tired that she was pretty miserable.  Afterwards we came home, had some hot chocolate and crashed.

The next morning Rich wanted to just get up and got get donuts are Krispy Kreme but since it was on our way out of town I suggested that we all go together...but it was more like herding cats to get us all ready to go in any kind of speed.  By the time we left it was time for lunch so we just hit Mr. Gatti's for the pizza buffet in Knoxville instead.

A few weeks earlier I had gone to the Smokey's with some friends and the traffic hadn't been bad at all.  A week previous to that the traffic had been absolutely horrendous - taking nearly an hour to go 1 mile.  I reasoned that since my trip had been later, most of the tourist season was past and so going to the mountains (foothills by western standards - LOL) would be lovely, fun, and easy.  NOT!!!  Traffic was so bad that the police actually closed the road in the park to Gatlinburg.  There was also no cell phone service in the park so when we found ourselves separated from Joey and Carlie we just hoped for the best.  Ironically, as we were entering the Kade's Cove Loop (an 11 mile loop of one way traffic to see scenic sites, old churches and cemeteries, bears, etc.) a traffic sign indicated that it was a 3 hour trip to go the 11 miles but we thought that Joey and Carlie were ahead of us so we entered the loop.  We were so surprised when just a few hundred feet into the loop we found Joey - he was driving the wrong way to get out of the loop!  I have no idea how he was able to turn his van around as the road is just one lane - but he managed it somehow!  That's Joey for you!  Carlie was so embarrassed...cars were bumper to bumper and people would ask him if he realized he was going the wrong way and he would tell them, "Yeah, but I'm not wasting three hours for this!"  Rich and I were already committed and we couldn't find a place to duplicate Joey's move but we found a cutoff that allowed us to only go two miles back to the Ranger Station and Souvenier Store.  When we got there we found that Carlie, Joey, Gideon, Levi, and Reah were walking down the road.  They returned to the store and we made potty stops and I told Carlie that when the other drivers had seen what Joey was doing they would see the door magnets on the car showing he was a Ron Paul supporter and would just consider the source!  LOL

From the store back to Gatlinburg was 26 miles but we ended up taking the Pigeon Forge cut-off and heading back that direction as we had tickets for the Hatfields and the McCoys Dinner Theater.  We needed to kill some time so we ended up at McDonalds for an ice cream and then hit a strip mall. 

About 7 pm we headed over to the theater to pick up our tickets and waited outside where they had rocking chairs and a sort of petting zoo type of deal, and then in the gift shop for pictures and to be seated.

Levi did NOT want his picture taken!

Once we got seated the wait staff started bringing our food - creamy vegetable soup, fried chicken, pulled pork, beans, cole slaw, corn bread biscuits, mashed "taters", and chocolate pudding for dessert.  Our drinks were served in Mason Jars and the kids thought that was pretty fun.

The show was fun, light-hearted and while the kids didn't get ALL the "Jeff Foxworthy"-style jokes, they did get much of what was going on.  They had never heard of the feud of the Hatfield's and the McCoys and so we had shared with them some of the backstory before we even got to the theater so that they would have some kind of reference point.  There was fun music with banjos, guitars, bass fiddle, jug, fiddles, and great singers.  They also had fun dancers that were tappers and they could really make music with their feet - they were awesome.  And of course, the Tennessee twang fit right in to the dramatic effects of the production. LOL  Couldn't tell on bit if it was real or just for effect!

By the time we got home it was nearly midnight and it had been a very long day.  The kids were out like lights!  I still had a R.S. lesson to finish preparing and Rich had some things to do for Young Men so we didn't get to sleep until about 2 am.  Love having an 11:30 meeting time - although Rich's start at 10!

We went to church, came home and had lunch and then drove to Knoxville to visit Grandma B's grave, and returned home to fix dinner.  Bob came over and ate with us too.  Bedtime was past due but Gideon, Joey, Rich and I played a round of Phase 10 just because. 

This morning everyone helped Joey and Carlie collect their things and then we headed over to Firehouse Subs for lunch before they took off.  They returned here to get Storm and the kids got some last handfuls of candy from the "candy box" - they seemed to like it just like our other grandchildren that have been here! LOL We had hugs and kisses and waved as they drove out of the drive way...bittersweet!  They called about 8 pm this evening to tell us they had arrived home safely....  Time with family...is there anything better????  If there is I can't imagine it!!!!